


Down in the Park

by crazycatlady713



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2012)
Genre: Alien Invasion, Explicit Language, Friendship, Gen, High School, Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-23 14:02:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4879594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazycatlady713/pseuds/crazycatlady713
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Irma is a young horror movie enthusiast just trying to survive high school. She keeps to herself and counts the days till graduation, at which point she'll run out of the building like it's on fire and her life will begin. Or so she thinks. Some strange new students have just transferred to Roosevelt High, and they are about to make her life even more hellish than usual.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Down in the Park

A wise man once said, "Nobody who turns out to be great had an easy time in high school."

Irma Langinstein is inclined to agree. 

In fact, if she were to adequately describe her high school experience thus far, she'd liken it to the village from Shirley Jackson's The Lottery. Her surroundings are quite nice truth be told, and the residents amiable enough. But draw the black dot and all bets are off. The worst part is that she never knows what form the dreaded black dot will take. Liking the wrong band or wearing the wrong clothes, being the wrong size or wearing one's hair the wrong way. It's anybody's guess. 

She may be clueless when it comes to current trends, but she _does_ know a couple things. She knows idolizing the Soska twins over Taylor Swift is a huge social no-no, and being saddled with the old lady-est of old lady names isn't much help either. 

While she fully intends to make a name for herself in the horror scene, she's not interested in attaining scream queen status just yet. She'd much rather her tenure in the seventh circle of Hell known as Roosevelt High be as bloodless as possible, thank you very much, and she keeps her mouth shut and her head down at all times. She prays to any deities who happen to be listening that she can survive relatively unscathed. They seem to be listening so far, though their support is a bit shaky at times.

She wonders what her dad would think of her tactic? She doesn't talk to him much these days, but she knows he'd disapprove. He'd probably spout off something equal parts sage and hackneyed, about letting one's light shine or not being afraid of other's opinions or something. 

"You know, Irm," he'd say, a cloud of acrid cigar smoke wafting about his head like clouds around a mountain summit, "I know every parent says this about their child, but I know for an indisputable fact that you are destined for greatness. If you intend to create anything of significance, which I know you will, it's inevitable that you'd draw detractors. But the trick is learning to deal with all the 'haters' as you young people have dubbed them, and learn to rise above. As Aristotle once said, 'to avoid criticism, say nothing, do nothing, be nothing.' Don't be nothing."

It's good hypothetical advice really, but way easier said than done. Afterall, _he's_ never been a teenage girl.

But being at the bottom of the popularity totem pole _does_ have its perks. The first and most important one being April O'Neil. 

They met in AP Chemistry. Assigned to one another as lab partners, Irma spoke only when necessary and kept to herself. But April stubbornly insisted on treating her like a human being, and after a while, Irma had no choice but to admit she actually made a friend. She's sill in shock. 

April is kind, and funny, and smart, and so far out of her league she may as well be orbiting Mars. She's almost preternaturally understanding, which is a definite plus for someone with interests as odd as her own. She let Irma know early on that she can tell her anything, and Irma often takes her up on the offer. April makes her feel so _sane_ and she  sometimes worries it's all a really elaborate prank, that she'll someday pull a Carrie on her and douse her with pig's blood in front of the whole school. She's told her as much, to which the wholly unflappable redhead simply laughed. 

"Honestly Irma, why would you even _think_ that?" she said with mock indignation. "I would never do such a thing. I saw how that movie ended! Also? Sissy Spacek is a way better actor than Chloe Grace Moretz. Just sayin'."

Bless her little heart, Irma thought.

She just wishes April would confide in _her_ as easily. She is under the distinct impression April is keeping something from her. She'll come to school tired and bruised, while other times she'll be out for days with no real explanation. That she's involved in something dangerous is a constant worry for her, though April tries her best to allay her fears. Irma has decided that if she ever _does_ divulge her secret, she will support and protect her to the best of her abilities. She owes her that much.

The second is Casey Jones.

Though she sometimes fears he only tolerates her presence to be near April, she likes him anyway. Her intense love of horror films, zombie comics and Gwar is matched only by his own, and it's nice to have someone with whom she can wax enthusiastic about the latest Eli Roth offering. He is just as pumped as she to expound upon these topics at length, delivering impassioned speeches about the merits of using blunt force on walkers as though he were standing at a lectern shaping young minds. That he's also sort of hot is an added bonus.

Not that she'd ever act upon her feelings, of course. She can see how he looks at April, and how she in turn flourishes beneath his gaze. How a small smile will blossom across her freckled face when he shows off in front of her, though she'll try to hide it; and how desperate he is to win her approval, all the while trying to seem taciturn and indifferent. She is loathe to admit it, but their little dance is actually kind of cute. She sometimes wants to just stand up and scream, "stop with the whole Ross and Rachel, will-they-or-won't-they bullshit and just ask each other out already!" 

She's not quite mentally prepared to see them as a couple just yet, though. For now, she just wants to enjoy being with her friends sans relationship drama. Moreover, she _needs_ them. Her little army, though a mere two soldiers deep, is all she has to protect her. And for all their foibles, she is grateful for them. She knows how hard it is to find real friends. 

The third and final perk is the invisibility her loser status affords her. She is so beneath her peers' notice it's like a super power, and she finds herself able to flit unseen throughout the building as adroitly as a ghost. And _that_ in turn is how she learned a very important lesson.

Every school has at least one, and hers is no different. The pretty, popular girl who can do no wrong, the one to whom all the boys herd like rats toward the sound of the Pied Piper's melody. The Queen Bee of Roosevelt High is Hannah, a statuesque blonde with perfect teeth, impeccable style, and (if the rumors are true) a very costly nosejob, gifted her by her parents for her sweet sixteen. The steady clickety-clack of her louboutins against the linoleum heralds her arrival wherever she goes, her loyal flock of flying monkeys perpetually in her wake. The Bitch Brigade, as they have so lovingly been dubbed, are as petty as they are pretty and have destroyed more than one reputation with their gossip. That Irma has so far flown under their radar is nothing short of a miracle in her eyes.

She'd sometimes see Hannah's lackeys around school, where they'd ignore her like the bug they consider her and talk amongst themselves as if she weren't there. Like a teenage Jane Goodall she'd observe and analyze them from afar, if only to satisfy her curiosity as to how the upper echelon functions. It was then she realized that not even Hannah is immune to the inner workings of the high school hate machine. She could practically see the venom drip from their lips as they slandered Dear Leader, In the bathroom, the locker room, the library; pretty much anywhere Hannah currently _wasn't_ made her prone to the same hateful rumor-mongering she visited on others.

And _that_ , Irma knew, was the real tragedy. That Hannah's looks and popularity and privilege, all the things she held in such high esteem, amounted to nothing. She had underlings and yes-men aplenty, but no true friends. Irma, by comparison, boasts an embarrassment of riches in that department. 

And she was blessed to have not only real friends, but friends who shared her interests. An especially beautiful thing, as she was looking forward to having them join her for a special night of art house cinema.

"You guys are _not_ gonna believe what's playing at the Argosy Theater next weekend!" she gushes, taking a seat beside them at the lunch table.

A vaguely disinterested April looks up from the slab of cardboard masquerading as pizza on her plate. "Ew, you wanna go to the Argosy? Pfft, I hope you put some newspaper or something on the seat first before you sit down."

"Yeah dude, there's probably so much jizz in the cushions _I_ might even end up pregnant," Casey adds.

"It's not _that_ kind of theater anymore, you guys!" Irma says, pushing her glasses further up her nose. "It changed hands a while ago, it's completely different now. The new owners even reupholstered the seats, so you can leave your diaphram at home, Casey."

"Yeah yeah," he says through a mouthful, "so what's so great about the Argosy that ya want me to compromise my virtue?"

"Science fiction double feature night!" she cries. "First, they're gonna show _Invasion of the Body Snatchers_. Not the original though, the remake from the 70's, which is actually the superior one in my opinion, and you _know_ how I feel about remakes so that's saying a lot.

"Then afterwards, it's another fine selection from the 70's called _The Man Who Fell to Earth_ starring none other than David friggin' Bowie! It was actually his very first movie. He looks so young in it."

"Wait a minute...ya want us to go all the way across town just to see two old ass movies from the 70's that we could just watch on netflix instead?"

"Be nice, Casey," April chides, punching him playfully in the arm.

"Because we're not just going for the movies, Casey! We're going for the whole experience. Watching a movie on a tiny screen in your living room with a whole bunch of distractions is completely different from watching it on the silver screen in an actual theater, the way the filmmakers _intended_ they be seen. Also, David Bowie has a nude scene that's just so much better on a big screen."

"...I'm listening," April says with eyebrows raised aloft, Casey glowering beside her.

"Yup, full frontal. King Jareth himself, completely butt ass naked. Are you interested   _now_?" Irma asks with a sly smile. That Bowie's character is an alien with no genitalia renders the nude scene invalid, but Irma decides to keep that to herself. They'll cross that bridge when they get there.

"It's a rad movie, too," she continues. "It's about this alien who comes to Earth to retrive water 'cause his planet is experiencing this catastrophic drought. His civilization is way more advanced than ours, and he uses his technological know-how to form a really success business. But then, he meets some really shitty people who take advantage of him and introduce him to a really destructive way of life. In the end, the people he thought were his friends end up ruining him and he winds up destitute and alone, and his planet is pretty much destroyed."

"Wow, thanks for the spoiler there Stephanie Brown," Casey mutters, rolling his eyes. "And anyway, I think I'm a little alien-ed out at the moment."

"I second that," April says. A strange look passes between the two, something almost conspiratorial.

"Wha-what do you mean by that?"

"Oh, nothing!" April proclaims, tearing her gaze from Casey. "I was only joking around. I'd love to see the double feature with you, but next time, _I_ get to pick."

"Sounds fair," Irma says with a nod.

"Guess I'll tag along too," Casey says. "I'm sure you girls'll need a big, strong man to protect ya on the mean streets of New York." 

Irma just rolls her eyes and smiles. "Sure do, Case. Can you go find us one?"

"Ha ha. Very funny, dork."

"Speaking of dorks..." April chimes in, looking toward the double doors of the cafeteria. 

Hannah is making her usual fashionably late entrance, a flotilla of her giggling, vapid minions in formation behind her. A few new recruits can be seen in the ranks, several boys so similar in appearance they could very well be quadruplets. They look like they've just stepped out of a Back to School ad, dressed in identical button down shirts and khakis with sweaters around their shoulders. They've even parted their pale blond hair in the same direction, and walk in step with one another.

"Is there a douchebag convention in town?" Casey says, eyeing the new worker bees with distaste. 

"Pssh, it looks like all the villains from every 80's teen movie got together and formed a club," Irma offers. "I'll bet at least two are named Chad."

April winces suddenly, gripping her head in her hands. She has grown pale and squeezes her eyes tight, whimpering and gritting her teeth. Her friends leap to their feet and rush to her side, anguished looks on their faces.

"Ape, you alright?" Casey asks, a frantic tone in his voice.

The four boys turn their heads as one as they pass their table, staring at the trio. Something about them seems so _off_ , Irma thinks, something other than the obvious Borg hive mind thing they've got going on. She is reminded of this dumb cartoon she used to watch as a kid, specifically a scene in which the cute animal characters try to pass as human. They'd hop on each other's shoulders, don a coat and hat and walk around with legs and arms all akimbo, while passersby gawked and wondered why multiple high-pitched voices were coming out of a grown man's torso. She can't shake the Uncanny Valley feeling she gets while looking at them, like they too are just cutesy woodland critters wearing ill-fitting human suits. She chalks it up to too many late night b-movie marathons and returns her attention to her ailing friend.

The boys' attention is on her as well, which in turn draws Casey's attention. "The fuck you lookin' at?" he barks, spit flying from his mouth. He marches toward them, eyes flaming and knuckles cracking, like a video game brawler about to go toe-to-toe with a bunch of low-level midbosses. The other kids look eagerly toward them, damned vultures they are, hoping to see some spilt blood. A hand reaches out for his own then, stopping him in his tracks.

"It's okay Case," April pleads, "I'm fine."

The boys seem unfazed by Casey's outburst, continuing to watch them for a few moments more with looks of disinterest on their too-perfect faces. Then just like that they turn and continue their trek toward Hannah's table, their gaits stiff and ungainly. Their hopes dashed, the other kids likewise return to their lunches with a collective moan of dissatisfaction. The whole ordeal was over so quick the staff hadn't even time to step in.

"What the hell just happened?" Irma asks, bewildered. "Are you okay, April?"

"Yeah, I just...I get these real bad migraines sometimes. I'm okay though guys, honest."

They sit back down, Irma taking a quick glance over her shoulder at the new students. They stare straight ahead at the wall before them, methodically eating some crackers like assembly line robots. They deposit a single cracker at a time, chewing in accordance with one another before reaching for more. It's almost funny, and Irma would probably have laughed to see people even more awkward than herself. If she weren't so freaked out.

Hannah somehow has yet to notice her new friends' odd behavior. She and the others continue their inane conversation beside the boys, flipping her hair over her shoulder and giggling demurely while toying with her salad. Irma supposes she shouldn't be _too_ surprised. Hannah and her ilk aren't the brightest crayons in the box, and the boys are attractive enough to warrant acceptance in her inner circle. Regardless, one would think it would elicit some reaction.

April and Casey share another of their looks, one that would suggest they know more about what's going on than either lets on. Irma wishes they'd let her in on it, but doesn't push the issue. She knows how to figure things out on her own.

***  
There's a slight chill in the air as they make their way to the theater, fat fluffy clouds like heads of cauliflower dotting the sky. The weather blessedly holds out, and their Saturday afternoon is spent window shopping, people watching and taking in old alien movies. A perfect day, as far as Irma is concerned.

The neighborhood in which the Argosy is located has undergone a multitude of changes over the last few years. Gentrification has set in, and where boarded up buildings and empty lots filled with weeds and broken bottles once stood, there are now vintage boutiques and fair trade coffee shops. All of which is way more than any of them can afford, but thankfully, theater tickets are still relatively cheap. 

The streets are abuzz with life, joggers and dog walkers and young couples pushing their babies in strollers clogging up the sidewalk. The threat of rain has not stopped anyone from enjoying the crisp Fall day, orange and brown leaves from the spindly, newly-planted trees lining the street crunching beneath their feet. Irma thinks she spots a few familiar blonde heads in the crowd while on line at the ticket kiosk, but keeps her mouth shut. She hopes it's just her imagination.

"Soooo," she says when the movie lets out, throwing her arms around her companions' shoulders. "What'd you think?"

"The first one was pretty good," April responds, "I thought the second one was kinda boring, though. And that nude scene was so lame. You didn't tell me he had a crotch like a Ken doll, Irma!"

"I didn't mind," Casey says. "Wasn't real interested in seein' some dude's junk anyway. And I don't know why you guys think David Bowie is so hot anyway, I think he looks like a fuckin' muppet."

"You're telling me you wouldn't hit that?" Irma says incredulously, her lips quirked into a small smile.

"Uh, no."

"Yeah, right. If repeated viewings of _Deadgirl_ has taught me anything, it's that teenage boys will stick their dicks in anything."

"Yeah, well, not _this_ teenage boy. And anyway, I wouldn't bone some weird, hairless, dickless alien dude...might get space herpes or somethin'."

"Casey would get stuck being the top all the time anyway," April joins in, elbowing him playfully.

"Nah, it'd be fine!" Irma says. "Even without a dick, he'd still be able to take care of Casey. I mean, he's still got hands, and a mouth, and there's always strap-ons."

"This conversation is makin' me feel _real_ uncomfortable."

After the laughter at Casey's expense has subsided, Irma clears her throat. "So, uh...speaking of creepy aliens," she begins, haltingly. She doesn't want to ruin this fine day with mention of them, but curiosity gnaws at her. "I think I saw the Midwich Cuckoos standing around when we were at the theater."

Her friends grow quiet and solemn, their gaze trained on the ground as they head towards the bus stop.

"I know you guys are keeping something from me!" she blurts out. "Like, you're not even subtle about it, you give each other these weird looks all the time whenever something strange happens. Why won't you just let me in on your little secret? Aren't I your friend, too?"

"Listen, Irma. You _are_ our friend, and I'm not trying to keep you out of the loop, it's just that..." April starts, Casey shooting her a warning look. "It's...it's hard to explain. But yeah, you're right. We do know more than we let on, and the truth is, I think they're...stalking me. I'm not too sure exactly why at the moment, but..."

"Wait, what makes you think they're stalking you? And did you go to the cops?"

"Well, no. It's complicated. In addition to their creepy staring during lunch, I see them in random places outside of school too, and I get these weird headaches when they're around. It's like...my body is trying to warn me about them or something. And um, you know how I told you I have these, uh, karate lessons I take? Well, Casey and I were walking home from a lesson late one night and there they were all of a sudden, just following us."

"April, I'm really starting to get freaked out," Irma says, aghast. "Why don't you tell your dad or something?"

"Don't worry, _I_ can take care of her," Casey proudly announces, head held high.

"I can take care of myself," she says, jabbing a finger in his chest. "They got pretty spooked when I took out my tessen anyway, just kinda took off."

"Wait, what's a tessen?"

"It's like an iron fan ninjas use," Casey answers for her.

"What the hell?" Irma stops dead in her tracks, staring April directly in the face. "You mean to tell me that not only are these guys following you, but you had to use a friggin' ninja weapon on them?"

"Well, I didn't actually _use_ it..."

"You guys, this is crazy! We have to _do_ something!"

"Irma, please listen to me," April says, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "It's not as bad as you think. And I hate keeping secrets from you, and I promise you I will let you know what's going on when the time is right, it's just..."

"The time ain't right at the moment," Casey cuts in.

"Yeah."

"April, I'll be honest with you right now. I'm getting a little scared. I don't want anything to happen to you." 

April pulls her into a tight hug. " _Nothing's_ going to happen to any of us, Irm. Trust me, we've got friends in high places helping us out. Everything is going to be okay."

"I think you mean 'friends in low places,' heh," Casey says, snickering.

"C'mon," April says, taking Irma by the arm. "That frozen yogurt place is still open. My treat."

"Don't think fro yo is going to make me forget that my best friend is in mortal danger," she says, allowing herself to be dragged down the street.

"No one is in mortal danger!" April cries.

"Someone's definitely gonna be in mortal danger if I don't get my free fro yo," Casey says, running on ahead of them.

"But..."

"Just drop it Irma, please?" April asks, her cobalt eyes huge and pleading. "Just please trust me. Everything is going to be okay."

Irma keeps her mouth shut for the rest of the night. Her mind doesn't comply quite so easily, horrible thoughts racing through it. She spoons a hardy dollop of chocolate chip and gummy bear laden frozen yogurt into her mouth, her friends tucking into theirs with delight. The cloyingly sweet dessert just turns to ashes on her tongue.

***

_Nancy Drew made this shit look so damn easy_ , she thinks. 

She began her investigation the Monday following April's admission. A full week later and she still has nothing to show for it. Not for lack of trying, though.

She asked around about the boys, seeking out everyone from the principal all the way down to that weird kid who helps out in the library after school and always smells like broccoli. The answers she received ranged in quality from "not the least bit helpful" to "why did I even bother asking you?" Some of the people she sought out, like the principal and the guidance counselors, gave the standard non-answer she fully expected; it was a matter of student confidentiality, they explained, and could not elaborate further. 

Others were merely baffled by their existense. Though willing to talk to her, they simply didn't know the answer to her queries. Not one person in the entire school seemed to know where they transferred from, where they lived, or if they took any extracurriculars. Even stranger, she couldn't even get a consensus on what their names are. Usually some variation of Craig or Carl or Kenny. One dumbass insisted they were all named "Krang" or something. That's the last time she asks broccoli kid anything.

After much deliberation and a minor panic attack, she realizes there's only one thing left to do; she has to hoist her big girl panties up and confront Hannah. She's the only one she's ever seen actually interacting with them, as minimial as it was, but it's something. And right now, she has next to nothing to work with. 

She finds her sitting in the bleachers after school, watching her latest boyfriend running through drills. One of her acolytes sits beside her, the two snacking on baby carrots and talking about how they're like, gonna get _so_ totally wasted this weekend, ohmigod. She hasn't even started talking to them yet and she already wants to pull out her own hair. The sacrifices she makes for her friends, she thinks ruefully.

"Hey Hannah," she says, climbing to the top. "I was just hoping I could ask you a quick question, if you're not busy..."

The pair pause mid-giggle - _why are they always fucking giggling?_ she thinks - and look at her like she's dogshit on the bottom of their uggs. 

"Powderpuff football isn't for another month or two," she says, her sparkling pink lips curled into a smirk. Her friend nudges her with a fur-lined boot and commences giggling. Irma grits her teeth and takes a few calming breaths before continuing.

"Uh, no. I was actually wondering if you -"

"She's seeing someone already," her friend joins in, "and anyway, she doesn't swing that way."

More nudging, more giggling, scandalized cries of "oh my _god_ Becky, no you didn't!" from behind a perfectly manicured hand. This was going to take way longer than expected.

"I wanted to know who those four guys you sit with at lunch are," she says as quick as she can before she is interrupted again, the sentence coming out like one long, garbled word.

Hannah rolls her eyes and blows a lock of golden hair away from her face. "I dunno, they're just some guys...why do you wanna know? You got a crush on one of them?"

"Maybe she's got a crush on all four of them," Becky says, " you know lameasses like her are always the biggest freaks."

"Yeah, she probably wants them to run the train on her!"

The two degenerate into yet another fit of hysterical laughter as Irma turns on her heels. Hannah has proven to be even less help than she anticipated. Fuming and red-faced she plods down the bleachers, their laughter still ringing in her ears.

She stops then, her hands shaking and her heart pounding. She knows she should just keep moving but something inside her is breaking. The fear, the anger, the unfairness of the whole situation; it all comes crashing down on her like a cartoon character getting flattened by a piano. All she wanted was to ask a couple of questions to help her friend, to take no more than a few minutes out of Hannah's precious schedule. That, evidently, was too much to ask. And after all the craziness of the past couple weeks, she's officially had enough. Not quite knowing what she's doing, she marches back up and stands before the Bitch Queen and her handmaiden with hands on her hips.

"I don't know why you have to be such an asshole all the time," she says, shocking even herself with her boldness, "but you're involved in something very dangerous, and I'd watch myself if I were you."

"Or _what_ , nerd?" she replies, Becky snickering beside her. "You'll throw your calculator at me? You'll talk shit about me to your Dungeons & Dragons squad? Oh please, I'm so fucking scared."

"I won't talk shit about you, but your 'friends' might. In fact," she inclines her head to Becky, "I overheard your bestie here in the bathroom saying you're a huge STD-spreading slutbag. She didn't specify which STD you're guilty of spreading, but she _did_ call you 'Gonorr-Hannah' . Not the best nickname I've ever heard, but it gets the job done."

Hannah's mouth forms a perfect O as she looks at her friend, the latter shaking her head vigorously and denying it all.

"Hannah, she's _lying_! I never said that, I swear!"

"Oh, and Hannah?" Irma says, carefully removing her glasses and placing them in her pocket. "I'm not gonna throw a calculator at you. I'd much rather throw a fist instead!"

She swings as hard as she can, catching Hannah on the jaw and sending her sprawling backwards. The baby carrots fly through the air as she falls flat on her ass, Becky emitting a high pitched squeal as she rushes to her side. Irma stands triumphantly over her, black tears sliding down her cheeks - you'd think someone as invested in their looks as Hannah is would use waterproof mascara, she thinks -  before flouncing down the bleachers and back into the building. Her face erupts into a huge, satisfied grin as she walks off, Hannah's howling and Becky's attempts to soothe her like a symphony in her ears.

_I'd much rather throw a fist instead!_ she thinks as she heads for her locker, laughing the whole way. Not the best one-liner in the world, she concedes. She makes a mental note to change it up, once the movie based on her life begins filming. She wonders if she can get Guillermo del Torro to direct? A paper falls out of her locker then, interrupting her musing. Both cautious and curious, she unfolds it and reads.

_That's a hell of a right hook you've got there, Rocky! But unfortunately, beating up Hannah won't get you anywhere (although it is fun). She doesn't know anything, but I do. Meet me tonight at Crystal Lake Park, 8 pm. Come alone._

_\- A friend_

Well then, she thinks, carefully placing the note in her backpack. The plot thickens.

***

She trods down the cobblestone lane toward the copse of trees in the distance, the moonlight shining silver on the eponymous lake's placid surface. It's really more a pond than a lake, and substantially less crystal-like in the daytime. Once the sun's rays demistify it, the water is as brown as a scab and probably houses flesh-eating parasites. Wasn't this very lake mentioned in a news report some time ago? Irma struggles to recall the details. If she remembers correctly, the police dredged it looking for some missing kid. They found some old lady's head instead, to this day still unidentified. Good job coming here alone at night Irma, she thinks. Real smart. 

She made damn sure her cell was fully charged before she left the house though, in case she needed to call the cops, and her pepper spray remains safely ensconced in her pocket. A knife is wedged firmly down her boot for added security. Sarah Conner she most assuredly is not, but she feels like she can hold her own in case things get hairy. Doubly so now that she took that hateful she-devil down a notch. Her knuckles still ache, but in a good way. She feels strong and brave and ready to kick some ass, and if not for the fact that the sun has already set she'd be wearing her coolest shades. 

Now to find this mysterious "friend" of hers. She wishes he or she was more specific with the details.

Someone behind her shouts "hey!" and she whirls around, the beam of her flashlight landing on who she assumes is her informant. It takes a few seconds for the vision before her to sink in. Her eyes widen and her breath comes in short gasps as she takes in the purple-streaked hair, the glasses, the skull-emblazoned shirt. The deep purple polish on her - on _it's_ \- nails is even chipped in the same places. 

She opens her mouth to scream and feels a hand clap over it, while another reaches for her arms. As the flashlight falls from her grip, it shines briefly on the familiar face of a boy with ash blond hair lunging for her, another directly behind him. She kicks the one holding her as hard as she can in the jewels, an act that doesn't seem to faze him but grants her enough leeway to reach for her pocket. She retrieves the pepper spray and shoots a stream directly into the eyes of the nearest one. He doesn't so much as blink as it splashes against his face. 

She reaches for the knife in her boot, her fingertips grazing against the cold steel for but a moment before her arm is wrenched back. It falls out and clatters against the ground as she is restrained, all four holding her down and covering her mouth. Her doppelganger enters her vision then, the dim light of the streetlamp directly overhead creating an aura around it. An angel of death, wearing a borrowed face. It smiles at her, smug and triumphant, hands on its hips.

A strange thing happens then. The head swivels completely around like it's possessed and rises up. The arms detach from the torso and the stomach splits open, revealing a compartment within. It's some kind of...Irma's not entirely sure. A brain-like thing with small, piggy eyes, a mouth full of tiny razor teeth and a pair of tentacles acting as arms.

"The human known as Irma has been subdued," one of the boys says in a flat monotone voice.

"I can _see_ that, you dimwit!" the brain thing says, rolling its eyes. "What did I do to get saddled with you inept morons? You want something done right, gotta do it yourself, am I right?" It looks down at Irma as if expecting an answer.

"The one known as Kraang Subprime will now commence...," one of the boys begins, the brain-thing shutting him up with a quick swipe of a robotic arm.

"Do you plan on telling this human our entire plan?" it croaks at him, its voice like it took a cheese grater to the throat. It approaches her, a needle-like apparatus extending from the tip of an index finger. "Eh, guess it doesn't matter much now. You won't be around much longer to spoil anything."

She struggles against her captors, thrashing with all her might against their vice-like grip, her head darting wildly from side to side. She sees the tip of her knife mere inches away, glinting in the sparse light of the streetlamp. Their hands are so strong and so cold, like lifeless hunks of metal. But she won't give up, and she summons everything she has in her as she rips her legs free and kicks one of the boys in the chest. She pulls her hands away and scrambles for the knife, the brain-thing screaming at his underlings to get her.

"Get away from me!" she screams, holding the knife high over head. It is merely a kitchen knife but it may as well be Excalibur the way she wields it, screaming like a Valkyrie as she leaps on him. She slams it deep into the creature's eye, the thing screaming in agony. Her head hits the ground hard as she is tackled, bright colors flashing before her eyes.

The brain thing holds a tentacle over its useless eye as it stands over her, pure, unmitigated hate it its remaining one. "You're a feisty one," it says, almost prideful. "I might actually enjoy being you." 

Without another word it inserts the syringe in her temple. Her head feels like it is engulfed in flames as it extracts whatever it is the thing seeks. Numbness overtakes her as it is withdrawn and, seeing as she is no longer a threat, the boys let go. The brain-thing looks on her with a satisfied smirk as the compartment clangs shut, the head and arms falling back in place with a soft hiss.

"Wha...what have you done...to me?" she manages to sputter out.

"I'm using you to make me a more effective spy, silly!" It says in a voice identical to Irma's. "I now possess all your thoughts, your personality, and your mannerisms. Everything that makes you, you. I'm pretty much indistinguishable from the real thing. It's nothing personal, kid."  The Irma bot drops to its knees beside the original, squeezing her face as it peers deep into her eyes.

"Ya know, it wouldn't have even come to this if these four idiots had just done their fucking jobs!" The four in question wisely remain silent. "But what can you do? Good help is hard to find these days. And don't worry! I'll be sure to take good care of April on your behalf." It pats her cheek hard enough to bruise before rising to its feet once more. "Bring the human back to the lab, it can still prove useful. Think you morons can achieve _that_ at least?"

She is hoisted up onto the shoulders of one of the boys, her arms and legs dangling uselessly like so much dead weight. Her vision starts going black around the edges, and a whole litany of regrets come to mind as she is carried off. Coming here being but one of them. She looks back on all the quality time with her parents she missed out on, when her alter ego as brooding, angsty teen took over. She wishes she told Casey how she truly felt about him, and April how blessed she was to have befriended her. Despite what that friendship wrought.

She wishes she could protect them, or to at least know what she should be protecting them _from_. Aren't the villains supposed to divulge their grand scheme to the hero before they try to off them? That's the thing though, she thinks sadly. This isn't a movie. This is real life. There's not going to be a deus ex machina, no hero will show up at the last possible minute to save her. 

She is not the Final Girl. And she won't be getting out of here alive.

**Author's Note:**

> "Down in the park with the machmen  
> meet the machines playing kill by numbers  
> Down in the park with a friend called five"  
> ~ _Down in the Park_ by Gary Numan
> 
> (The quote in the beginning is from John Waters, by the way)


End file.
